Picture Play Magazine (Mar-Aug 1926)

32 Jobyna Ralston. Jobyna Ralston. SUPERMEN are a myth, and that is what heroes are supposed to be, aren't they ? At school, I thought the best football player was a hero — when the team won, that is. When they lost games, his halo didn't shine much. My ideal in those days was vaguely expressed in athletic prowess, rather than in individual boys. My inclination toward hero worship ceased when I saw a boy, of whom I had thought a great deal, bully a smaller lad. I believe the sophistication of our age acts against the idealization of individuals. In olden times, when myths were easier to cultivate, heroes thrived. In these days of universal limelight and honesty, they have a harder time keeping their halos intact. William Russell, of screen heroes, nearest approaches my ideal. Not so much for what he does in pictures, but because he is able to be in them at all. It isn't generally known that for several years, in his boyhood, he was pronounced a hopeless cripple. He cured himself by a program of painful exercise. I call that real heroism. June Marlowe. Give me an American frontiersman— sans whiskers. Tall and dark, muscular and swift in action, with fierce eyes June Marlowe. that can turn gentle in tenderness. Young, but with mature qualities. I have pictures of him in various guises portrayed by many actors, and photographs of historical characters. But on each I have painted over the whiskers ! That old maxim, "A kiss without a mustache is like an egg without salt," is obsolete so far as I am concerned. On the screen, George O'Brien and Charles Farrell most closely resemble him. Real life hasn't been prolific with my heroic type. The only boy who might fit into my mental picture is one whom I have known since I was in high school. He is athletic, likes to hunt and fish with my two brothers and myself, and we have many interests in common. But he is a blond ! Betty Baker. Mix the fire and impetuosity of the Latin Novarro with the steadfastness and constancy of the American Barthelmess. Result : my ideal. His heart must rule, but his brain must dictate. The ardent lover, who would thrill me with little nothings, whose love would all but consume. A flame, to sweep me off my feet, to carry me on wings of imagination to far, glamorous scenes, and make* me feel that I could dream, and live gloriously, with him. And the silent adoring boy who would show me in a thousand little ways that he would always be there ready to serve me. Wouldn't that be a perfect combination ? I close my eyes and' see these two, as other things. Novarro — tongues of fire and quaint, Oriental, colorful places. Betty Baker. Laura La Plante. Screen Stars Have Don't think the fans are the only hero wor and here are the confessions of some of the Barthelmess — myrtle blossoms and old-fashioned valentines. Exciting romance — and sweet loyalty. Ideal? Rather! Laura La Plante. Between a dark hero who symbolizes mystery and a blond hero who stands for comradely fun, how is a girl to choose ? Ronald Colman — the enigma, taciturn, with a charm difficult to define because it lies in what you surmise rather than in actualities. He intrigues and mystifies. Reginald Denny — cleanliness, good fun, a regular American friend. He makes time dash by in high gear. You've no dull moments when with him. Colman's is the repressed fire that a girl dreams of arousing in a man. He is shadows and calm, but with feeling beneath that contemplative air. I can imagine that, if you cared for him awfully, you would carry a little ache in your heart much of the time, through never being able to plumb his depths and understand him. He would always have secrets that you could not share because of your own lack. He gives the impression of having been deeply hurt and being therefore not intentionally cruel but cynical, and unkind in that sense of barricading himself within his moods. But the glorious moments would make up for that, surely ! Reg is all sunlight and everyday good humor, as open as a book, a splendid companion. The ideal I have of him influences my choice of boy friends in real life more than does my dream of Colman, but that may be because I know Reg so well and have never met my other hero. If I ever do, and he proves ordinary, I shall never forgive him ! i Mary Brian. 'When I was twelve years old, not so very long ago, I experienced my first romantic affair. It happened down in Texas, directly after Sunday school one day. His name was Orville, but he didn't look at all like the name sounds. He was freckled and had a snub nose, and he could ride and hit a bull's-eye and lick any boy in school. I thought he was a wonder. I knew it when he walked home with me from Sunday school and bought me two huge, luscious, chocolate ice-cream cones. It was not puppy love. It was very real and thrilling and important. My screen ideal is Richard Barthelmess. I've adored him since "Tol'able David." In New York recently I had luncheon with Mr. Barthelmess and his mother. They were both lovely to me. But — I wonder if Orville has forgotten me? There's nothing quite like one's first love. Mary Brian.